Hard to Handle

by Christine Warren

  Her cry caught in her throat, choked off in the flood of disbelief, wonder, and joy cascading through her. She trembled and began to struggle, trying to free her arms so she could touch him, could reassure herself of his solid presence, not just inside her, but above her, around her. With her. She felt as if all her inhuman strength had deserted her, leaving her vulnerable in a way she had never experienced, only it wasn’t her body that she had left open and unguarded. It was her heart.

  Drum groaned, his hips pressing and thrusting against her, and he shifted his grip, sliding his hands up until his fingers twined with hers. Ash gripped him back, her nails digging into the back of his hands as she rose up to meet him on every deep penetration. She took him inside her, inside all of her, and every time she felt the completeness of their joining, she felt a sense of resonating peace she had always imagined existed only in mortal fairy tales.

  Their bodies moved together, muscles straining, skin slicked with sweat. Bits of hay stuck to the moisture, and now and then a cool hint of the breeze would sneak past the remaining walls of stone to tease against heated flesh. Neither of them noticed. They remained lost in each other, lost in their moment, lost in the knowledge of the perfection of their mating.

  And when the end rushed toward them, breaking over them like a massive wave against a rugged coast, they remained pressed together, one in body, mind, and spirit. They dove into ecstasy together, their mouths forming the identical prayer.

  “I love you.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  A mist settled over the eastern part of the country the next morning. At least, that was how Drum thought of it. Kylie seemed convinced she’d been caught in some kind of rainstorm. He had to work to resist the urge to pat the top of her head and tell her how adorable she sounded.

  John had driven the four of them back to Clondrohitty just after breakfast, dropping them and some camping supplies off at the ruins of the Drummond house. The cinder-block structure of the outer walls remained, but a quick glance made it clear that the interior had been thoroughly gutted. Drum just gritted his teeth and turned away to get to work.

  While he, Ash, Kylie, and Dag began setting up an impromptu camp inside the undamaged garage, his brother-in-law remained long enough to fend off the influx of locals who stopped by to offer sympathy and help to the Drummonds. John assured everyone of the family’s well-being, and that Maddie would be staying with him and her daughter for a few days while she collected herself and began making arrangements with her insurance agents to rebuild her home. He assured them all that he would convey to her their offers and good wishes, and then sent them away to spread word down at the pub, the post office, and from door to door. That was the way village life worked.

  By the time John left, Drum had inspected his car to be certain it still ran, stacked up the food and supplies Sorcha had sent along, and unpacked the camping gear his mother had stored in the former barn’s loft. Combined with John’s contributions, he thought they had enough to get them through the next thirty-six hours or so until the new moon.

  “I know it’s not cozy,” he said, standing beside Ash while the others looked around the cavernous space, “but it’s got four walls and a roof to keep out the weather, plus there’s a bathroom in that corner.” He pointed to a walled-off area the size of a walk-in closet. “Toilet, stall shower, sink. Ma liked for Da to wash off the grease and grit before he tracked it into her kitchen. If the temperature gets uncomfortable, we can plug in a space heater and keep close to it. It won’t warm the whole area, but it should throw out a bit to help.”

  Kylie grinned. “Hey, we’ve got food and air mattresses. And John even lent us the laptop and a router. He said your neighbor would let us piggyback on his Wi-Fi. I think we’ll be fine.”

  “We will,” Ash said, her tone expressing no room for disagreement. “We should set up everything we think we will need, then. After that, Kylie can contact the others, and we will finalize our plans to bring Maeve home.”

  No one bothered to comment; they all just snapped into action. Kylie began sorting through the piles of supplies, pulling out linens and pillows while Ash grabbed a broom and began expelling dust from the floors like a bad-tempered school principal. Meanwhile, Drum and Dag assembled some old camping beds, then topped the frames with a couple of inflatable mattresses. It wouldn’t be as comfortable as a decent hotel, but it was better than the concrete floor and it let them stay close enough to the ruins to monitor any activity and to get in quickly. Priorities.

  Drum also unearthed a camp stove and the old aluminum cookware that went with it, so he set that up on an old table built into the wall beside the big utility sink. While the rest of them similarly puttered around, trying to pass the time as much as to make the space as comfortable as possible, Kylie commandeered a second workbench for the laptop and Internet router, tinkering and occasionally cursing until she had everything working to her satisfaction. Then there was more time to kill until the clock moved to a reasonable position for calling the middle of America. You know, given that it was never a good idea to antagonize a witch. Especially not the kind who could throw fireballs when provoked.

  Wynn answered the call, looking not so much like she had just woken up as like she had never been to sleep. “Houston, we have a problem,” she said in lieu of a greeting.

  “We’re not in Houston. We’re in Clon-dohickie, according to my phone apps.”

  “Ky, I’m serious. Ella and I spent all night on this. Something bigger is happening over there than just opening a hellmouth.”

  Drum scowled. “‘Just opening a hellmouth?’ The way Dag and Kylie made that particular activity sound, it’s the supernatural equivalent of ‘just’ dropping a nuclear warhead.”

  “Right. So imagine dropping a nuclear warhead on top of a plutonium mine.”

  Dag winced. “I would prefer not to do so.”

  “A sentiment I think we can all get behind,” Kylie muttered. “Okay, then, Pooh Bear. Lay it on me. What did you guys find?”

  “Misery and mayhem, what else?” Wynn sighed. “Ella and I dug up some information from people who spend a little too much time investigating the paranormal side of local legends around the world. It turns out that the Guild and the Order aren’t the only ones who got into the idea of hellmouths. According to what we read, there are locations all over the world that supposedly function as gates into hell, the underworld, the spirit plane, or whatever the locals in that particular area want to call it. They’ve got a couple in Greece, of course, and scattered across the old Roman Empire, but we found mentions of ones in Iceland, China, Japan, New Orleans, and even rural Pennsylvania.”

  “Right, because who doesn’t want to spend their vacation touring the bowels of the earth?” Kylie asked, rolling her eyes. “Like plain old caving isn’t weird and creepy enough. Let’s go hang out in caves that might be full of ghosts and demons and ancient gods while we’re at it?”

  “Sing it, sister,” Wynn said. “I think some of them can be written off, since they’ve been turned into big tourist attractions over the years, like the ones in Italy and Greece. Even if they were gates at one time, all these centuries of human energy have likely sealed them tightly enough to make the Order think twice about going there, even if they could manage to get a group inside without winding up all over the news.”

  Dag crossed his arms over his massive chest and frowned into the camera over Kylie’s head. “Why do I dislike the fact that you have used the word ‘some,’ Wynn?”

  The witch sighed. “Probably because you’re smarter than you look, big guy. The places you can Google are not where the Order is going to strike first, but I think we can assume that if they manage to get one of the hellmouths open, they’re not going to stop there, so Ella and I did some digging. As it turns out, that site you’ve been monitoring on the dark web turned up a few interesting tidbits.”

  “Like?”

  “Like … a rumor that says there was a gate in Ireland before
the time of Saint Patrick that didn’t just lead into the middle dimensions. It lined up directly to the outer planes. Specifically to a plane where something very, very old and very, very scary was being held prisoner behind heavy-duty magical wards.”

  Drum felt Ash stiffen beside him. Then she leaned toward the camera. “Which?” she demanded.

  He saw Wynn grimace. “The Unquiet.”

  “In the end it matters not,” Dag grumbled, though he had reacted first with a noise like an earth-moving machine cutting into rocky ground. “Whichever of the Seven they seek now, we can no longer deny that they will not stop until all the creatures have been released.”

  “Actually, I think it does matter, at least a little,” Wynn protested. “Dhuhlzek was always said to have a particular taste for individuals with precognitive talents. The stories make it sound like ‘Unquiet’ is what you call a superpowerful Demonic monster to keep it from eating you for using the term ‘batshit crazy.’ And that the reason it’s crazy is because it consumed so many humans with visions of the future, it became overwhelmed by the endless possible outcomes. Of course, it also became powerful enough to destroy half of Europe before the Guardians and the Guild were able to send it into that prison plane to begin with.”

  Blood of the Blessed Virgin. Drum felt his knees threaten to buckle, and it was only Ash’s quick action that provided the support he needed to keep standing. His sister’s life could end up not just opening a gate into hell, but letting the Devil out to play, all in one fell swoop.

  He felt the eyes of the others on him and sensed mostly sympathy for his feelings, but it didn’t stop Wynn’s quiet voice from asking the question.

  “Drum, I’m so sorry,” she said, and he could hear her sincerity, “but we need to know. How powerful is your sister’s talent?”

  “I can’t answer that. I’m not inside her head.” He swallowed, his throat so tight the action felt like he’d taken a knife through it. “The things she shares are mostly small, little tricks that make us laugh or drive us batty, like telling us who’s calling before the telephone rings or spoiling the outcome of the football game we’ve got on telly. When it comes to the big things, she usually clams up. I think they scare her. She might ask us to avoid going out on a certain night, though, and we always listen. Ma says she makes our gran look like a tosser, and there were those about the village who called her a witch when she wasn’t about to hear them.” He paused. “No offense intended, Wynn.”

  “None taken, Drum.” She forced a smile. “It’s fine. But I think we have to assume the worst, then, that Maeve had enough power to fuel the worst-case scenario version of the Order’s ritual. That means we can’t take any chances when it comes to stopping them. When we hit, we have to hit hard.”

  Kylie let out a little gargle of frustration. “How are we supposed to do that, though? You and I will be throwing away energy on the portal spell just before you get here, Ella can’t make the trip, and you said Fil can’t leave her current assignment in Alberta. Do you have the Avengers on standby to come racing to our rescue, by any chance?”

  “No, but I do have a slight change in plans. You and I are going to do the portal spell tonight. That will get Knox and me there early enough that I’ll have tomorrow during the day to recharge and be ready to go. I’m also going to bring Ella and Fil with me.”

  “But you said Ella can’t travel and Fil can’t be spared.”

  “Maybe not in body, but I can drag them along in spirit, and that’s where the magic happens.”

  Drum listened and struggled to wrap his mind around the plan that Wynn put forth. He’d already had to accept that he wasn’t ever going to grasp how magic would apparently allow the witch and her Guardian to travel from Chicago to them in the space of a few seconds. The idea of Wynn channeling extra energy from the other Wardens while they remained on the western end of the North American continent just threatened to send him over the edge. If he thought about it too hard, brain matter might start leaking out of his ear.

  For a few minutes, he wished very, very hard that they had decided to have this meeting in Dublin. At his pub. Where there was Guinness. Lots and lots of Guinness.

  “I’ll also spend a few hours in the morning giving Drum the kind of lessons you had in the spring,” Wynn continued, once the discussion stopped treating physics like paper to be torn up into tiny little pieces of confetti. “Only these will have to be even quicker and dirtier.”

  “Yeesh.” Kylie made a face. “In that case, at least bring the boy some lube.”

  Everyone shared a laugh at that, but Drum found himself very much afraid that the sentiment held more than a grain of truth. The sum total of his experience in the sort of conflict he was about to walk right into consisted of putting an instinctive kind of smackdown on what the others seemed to view as the Lollipop Guild of supernatural monsters.

  What the bollocks had he gotten himself into?

  Then his rational mind kicked back in, and he remembered. He hadn’t gotten himself into anything, not really. Maeve was the one in trouble, and it didn’t matter to him how he and this band of merry monsters managed to get her free again. He would do whatever it took.

  Looking around, he took stock of his allies. At his side stood Ash, tall and straight and fierce, almost as formidable in her human disguise as she was in her tunic and belt, beating her wings against the air currents and swinging her massive battle-axe above her head. He might not have known Kylie for long, but he had already fought beside her and knew her to be more than capable of taking care of herself in a tricky situation. And her Guardian? Well, anyone, human or not, who looked at Dag and decided he’d be a good choice to pick a fight with had a serious lack of mental development going for him. In either of his forms, Dag looked like one big pile of muscle, and only a fool would take him on out of choice.

  As for Wynn, Knox, and the others, Ash trusted them, and Drum had already admitted to himself that where she went, so went his nation. If she felt that this group of impossible people—impossible to believe, impossible to shake, impossible not to respect—were going to rescue Maeve from the clutches of the evil villains, then that was good enough for him.

  If only he didn’t have to worry whether or not he was good enough for her.

  After all, what could he do? So far, he had managed one spell, mostly by accident and with a complete lack of control or finesse. Sure, Wynn had offered to teach him a few things, but how much could he learn in five or six hours? Enough to keep himself alive in the kind of battle that brought out nerves even in the people who were committed to the Warden/Guardian/Demon/nocturni paradigm on a level Drum wasn’t certain he would ever reach? And it wasn’t like he had the physical abilities to make up for his lack of experience. The most fighting he had ever done was boxing, the closely monitored kind in a ring, for exercise, with safety equipment and trained monitors watching so that no one got badly hurt and no one pulled a move that could be considered illegal or unethical. Somehow he doubted the Order of Eternal Darkness paid much attention to rules or referees.

  What could she possibly see in him?

  Ash spoke, standing close beside him. “I lack the ability to do magic, of course, but I can also help to talk him through some exercises he might find useful. If he spends today gaining a better understanding of the flow and control of magical energy, your lessons tomorrow should prove that much more useful.”

  Wynn nodded and appeared supportive of the idea, but Dag and Kylie shared smirks it would have been tough to miss. Not that anyone tried.

  Drum found himself frowning. “What?”

  “Maybe I should supervise.” Kylie grinned, looking almost ready to burst into giggles. “That way practice won’t end with the two of you spending a couple of hours picking bits of hay out of your hair and, um, other more sensitive places.”

  What was that supposed to—

  Oh. Drum felt heat crawl up his neck and into his cheeks. Apparently he and Ash hadn’t gone unnoticed when the
y disappeared in the middle of the night. Or, at least, they hadn’t gone unnoticed after sneaking back into the house just minutes after sunrise. His shower that morning had left a few sprigs of dried alfalfa swirling around his sister’s drain.

  He cleared his throat. Ash just scowled and attempted to make everyone burst into flames from the intensity of her glare. To be honest, he found it kind of cute.

  Wynn laughed into the camera on her computer. “Oh, lay off them, Kylie. Or did you forget the compromising position Knox found you in the first time we came to visit you in Boston?”

  That brought a surge of color to Kylie’s cheeks, which make Drum feel better, even if Ash continued to look kind of grumpy. Was she upset that the others knew about them sleeping together? He had thought everyone already knew, had in fact assumed that all the others were working on their own assumptions regarding the nature of their relationship. He knew so little about the traditional way the bond between a Warden and a Guardian worked, only what Ash had told him. Most of that made it sound like a complex and slightly adversarial working relationship, but everything he had heard about the current crop of Guardians who had woken to face the latest threat from the Order indicated that they had each mated with the Warden who was present at their awakening. Why should he and Ash be any different? And why should it matter that they weren’t?

  Unless Ash harbored some regrets about what had happened last night. Specifically at the end of last night.

  They had both collapsed into heaps of boneless, quivering flesh immediately after the climax that had shaken them in its teeth like disobedient lion cubs. He’d been asleep almost before his own words had stopped echoing in his ears. Had he imagined hers?

  He knew what his heart held, what threatened to overflow it anytime his thoughts lingered on her, but what about hers? He knew she cared for him, at least enough to share her body with him and to want to protect him and his family from harm, but he wasn’t sure how much stock to put in such things. After all, victory in battle had always been considered a powerful aphrodisiac, and Ash had said many times that the purpose of her existence lay in protecting mortals’ lives from the evil of the Order and their Demonic masters.